


Clothes Call

by Haywire



Category: Zombieland (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5522879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/pseuds/Haywire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After changing The Plan several times, the foursome heads south towards Mexico. Things don't get off to a good start at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothes Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelheadedhipster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheadedhipster/gifts).



> A gift for angelheadedhipster for Yuletide 2015, hope you enjoy it! :)

“Ahhh!” Columbus yelled, scuttling backwards on his behind until his back came up solid against the wall.

“Are you ok?” Wichita asked, voice shaky. “Where did it… is it…” She kneeled down beside him, oblivious to the sounds of Tallahassee finishing off the job with his machete.

“I don’t know, I…” He looked down at his shoulder and all he saw was red.

This was not how things were supposed to go. Not according to The Plan.

\-----

The Plan had changed several times over the last several months. Wichita was convinced they had to make their way to the ocean, that there had to be survivors overseas. If not that, then surely people in isolated places - islands, oil rigs, large cruise ships - might still be out there. It was a long shot but onto what else could they have to fix their hopes?

So they made for the Pacific, only to change that plan to head east for the Atlantic instead, at Tallahassee’s behest. True, at the time they came up with The Plan they were much closer to the west coast, but he argued that by heading east they had a better chance of running into potential continental survivors. On top of that, there were likely more people living off of the east coast than the west, though he did confess to being biased on that point. Eventually.

That changed once again when they hit Texas. They found an abandoned ranch that was perfect for them. It had several huge rooms, a still functioning well, a generator with loads of fuel remaining, and the previous owned had left behind the significant majority of what had been an amazing firearms collection, complete with a lot of ammunition. The ranch was in a wide open area as well, so they could see any approaching zombies from far, far away, allowing them to defend it with ease.

Little Rock had insisted they stay, as she was tired of life on the road. They gave that a go, and it was great for the first few months until the well dried up. The lack of rain mixed with the fact they were so far away from any other source of water lead to them packing up and moving on. They took as much of the fuel, weapons, and ammo as they could load up and set out once more.

The latest version of The Plan saw them heading south towards Mexico. Once they realized that, hey, the apocalypse meant they didn’t necessarily need an up-to-date passport to cross the border, it became a much more attractive option. The Gulf of Mexico was an attractive option to seek out any other signs of life, and heading south also lead to warmer weather and less densely populated areas, making it easier to defend themselves while travelling.

One of the first places they stopped into once they crossed the border was a former tourist shop. It had been ransacked a hundred times over but there were still items of interest remaining.

“So, what do you think?” Columbus asked, coming out of one of the changing booths inside the store and twirling around.

“Oh my god, you cannot be serious,” Wichita said, biting her lip to supress a laugh as her eyes went wide.

“I am not travelling with anyone dressed like _that_.” said Tallahassee.

“What? What’s wrong with it?” Columbus frowned and looked at himself in a nearby mirror. He was wearing a sombrero, an oversized poncho, and a teal colored pair of cowboy boots, complete with spurs that jingled and jangled with each step he took.

“Even _I_ know that’s not something you should wear, dude.” said Little Rock, who had been holding a smaller sombrero in her hands, which she quickly put down after looking at the horrid ensemble.

“I’m just trying to fit in, blend into the area, you know?” He gestured around at similar items of clothing which were strewn all about the store.

“The fact that so much of this crap was left behind should’ve clued you in on just how useful it actually is, you know.” Wichita said. “Not a single person in Mexico dressed like that, it’s just garbage that they’d sell to people visiting here.” She looked downward and put her palm over her forehead as she shook it back and forth. “ _Especially_ with the boots.”

“I reiterate, even if we are the last four people on earth, I will _not_ be travelling with anyone dressed like that.” Tallahassee repeated. “You look like a goddamn scarecrow or something.”

“Maybe it’ll scare the zombies away?” posited Little Rock. “I mean, no one living or dead would want to be seen with someone looking like that, am I right?”

“Alright, alright, message received you guys.” Columbus held his hands up in surrender, raising them out of the poncho and lifting them in the air. It was then that they saw his shotgun, which had previously been hidden under the fabric.

“Wait, you were holding that the whole time?” Tallahassee rubbed his chin. “I did not see that as being useful in any fashion, pardon the pun, but if we ever ran across anyone…” That was their plan, to find people, so if they could conceal what they had the ponchos might prove to be useful.

“Exactly, that’s precisely what I was thinking,” said Columbus, nodding his head up and down vigorously. He stole another glance at himself in the mirror and sighed a little. “It was nothing to do with fashion at all, it’s one hundred percent utility. Of course.”

“Ok yeah, but you need to change those boots.” Wichita said with a smirk, lightly kicking one of his feet with hers. “Immediately.”

“Sure, I think they have more in this other changing room…” He walked over and opened the door only to find a half rotted corpse inside. It had been leaning against the door and fell towards Columbus with a dusty, throat-rattling gurgle before it chomped loudly at his shoulder.

He responded by raising his shotgun and firing, but being in such close quarters his blast missed, taking out a sizable chunk of the back wall of the booth but that was it. Both Columbus and the zombie fell backward after he shot, and the zombie, now at his feet, sunk its teeth into the hideous teal boots.

Little Rock screamed, Tallahassee ran over and kicked the zombie back into the booth while drawing out his machete, and Wichita ran to her boyfriend’s side.

\-----

Columbus and Wichita’s eyes met, neither of them saying anything. They snapped back into motion when Tallahassee’s last blow severed the zombie’s head, ending the hoarse moaning with a loud thwack.

He kept hacking away and yelling at the zombie, taking out his frustration on the now twice dead creature, having seen what it’d done to Columbus.

“I…” Wichita reached up and touched his cheek, wiping away a tear from his eyes while ignoring the ones in the corner of her own eyes.

“It’s… it’ll be ok,” he managed after clearing his throat. “You guys will be fine, just leave me here and I’ll…” Columbus trailed off. closing his eyes and resting his head back against the wall.

“You’re going to be fine.” Little Rock said, now standing beside her sister and smiling.

“Oh honey,” Wichita said with a sob, reaching out her other hand and taking her sister’s with it.

“No, seriously,” Little Rock said, shaking her hand free and touching Columbus’s shoulder. “See? It’s old dried blood, a little sticky and totally gross, but it’s not his.” She pointed back at the now decapitated head of the zombie. “It’s his. Or hers. Or its, whatever.”

Blinking, Columbus turned and tentatively poked at his shoulder. He then shrugged off the poncho, revealing no broken skin or blood underneath. “Oh hey, she’s, uh, she’s right. I’m fine!”

“You’re fine!” Wichita said, hugging him before pulling away and punching him on the same shoulder. “I mean, you’re fine, and don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again, you hear me?”

“Ow,” He rubbed his shoulder where she hit him and winced. “Maybe not so fine now, but ok, got it.”

“Didn’t bust through your boots either, it seems.” Tallahassee had come over once Little Rock pointed out he was fine, and he poked at the boots. “Other than that damn ugly color those are pretty good, it seems.”

“See? Told you guys, one hundred percent utility.”

“Uh-huh.” Wichita got to her feet and extended a hand to help Columbus get back on his own.

“Ok, maybe ninety-nine percent utility and one percent wanting to look like Clint Eastwood.”


End file.
